


Goodbye, Dear Jane

by siephilde42



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Don’t copy to another site, F/M, Jane Austen's Deathbed, M/M, References to Jane Austen, Time Travel, saying goodbye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-17 22:23:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19964179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siephilde42/pseuds/siephilde42
Summary: Aziraphale asks Crowley if he has ever gotten attached to another person, and Crowley admits that he grew quite fond of a certain author. Crowley feels guilty because he never properly said goodbye to her, so Aziraphale proposes a trip through time.





	Goodbye, Dear Jane

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure how this happened - somehow I imagine Crowley as a die-hard Jane Austen fan and had the silly idea "Wouldn't it have been nice if he had actually met her and developed some feelings for her? Of course, those wouldn't be remotely as strong as his feelings for Aziraphale, but still."
> 
> I could not find the exact time span for Crowley's almost-century-long sleep (and cannot remember it from the series/book), but I read in another fanfic that he woke up in 1888, which would mean that he would canonically have been asleep during Jane Austen's lifetime, so I tagged this story as alternate universe. If someone remembers the exact time span from the series/book, I'd be happy about a clarifying comment.

"Say, dear, were you ever attached to anyone else?", Aziraphale asked without looking up from his novel, _Jane Eyre_. Crowley, whose head was resting in the angel's lap, shifted and mumbled something unintelligible. "What?"

The demon sat up but avoided looking in Aziraphale's eyes. "Uh... well, I... my ... _encounters_ were mostly temptations which didn't mean a thing to me. But after we had this ugly fight back in the eighteenth century, I sort of... looked for a distraction, and", he stammered, "... I found one. I came across an author whose works I liked, and I ... uh, one thing led to another, and..." 

"I see", Aziraphale replied, surprisingly calm. "What sort of works?"

"Uh, deeply satirical, but at the same time very romantic. Describing how to find a mate, including all the pitfalls and impossible misunderstandings which can happen on the way, while doing unsentimental social commentary." 

_That sounds familiar_ , the angel thought. "Wait. You wouldn't be talking about..."

"Uh, yes."

Speechless, Aziraphale stared at him. Suddenly, the demon's fondness for certain film adaptations appeared in another light.

The angel cleared his throat. "Okay. So you fell in love with the master of the love story. I guess that shouldn't surprise me that much."

Crowley flinched. "The phrase 'fell in love with' might overstate it, but I was... quite fond of her." He grew very quiet after that and lay down on the sofa again.

It was a while until the silence was broken. "My dear, you have a positively _miserable_ expression on your face. What's the matter? I'm not angry at you for developing feelings for another person, so if that is what is disturbing you..." 

"It isn't. I'm just feeling guilty how I left things with her", the demon explained.

"Oh?" Aziraphale put the book away, this time for good.

"You know, she was hoping that I would _marry_ her."

"Oh! It was _that_ serious?", Aziraphale commented, hoping that Crowley couldn't sound out the jealousness from his voice.

"Well, for _her_ , it was. I... when I realised that she expected me to propose to her, I got cold feet and ... well, I wrote her a 'Dear Jane' letter instead of clarifying it in person."

"Uh, that sounds harsh."

"It was", the demon confirmed, emitting an unhappy sigh.

"So you never said goodbye to her properly", Aziraphale determined.

"Yeah", Crowley replied in a quiet voice.

They fell silent again. Stroking the demon's head, Aziraphale reflected on the situation. _Poor Jane._ Suddenly, he had an idea. "Dear, how about we say goodbye to her now?"

Confused, the demon straightened himself up and faced him. "How do you mean? You want to go visit her grave? You are aware that she is buried in a cathedral, aren't you?"

"No, silly. I mean we go _back_ to see her."

"Oh. Of course."

*

"Are you sure that that is the point in time you want to go to?", Aziraphale asked. 

"Positive", the demon replied.

"It's just, you know, maybe we should come back earlier than that?"

"No, angel. If we come back earlier, she will only get her hopes up again. I don't want to disappoint her twice."

"Well, we could also come back _before_ you sent her this letter."

"No, that would be _cheating_."

The angel sighed. _Cheating? You stopped time in the middle of the apocalypse to meddle with the great plan, but preventing you from sending a hurtful letter in the past is cheating?_ He pinched his forehead, hard. Aloud, he said "Fine. It's your goodbye, so you decide how to go about it. Very well, 17th July of 1817 it is."

*

Using their concealing abilities, they slipped into 8 College Street, Winchester, unnoticed. When they entered the chamber, the doctor was busy administering laudanum to Jane, Cassandra sitting beside her, very pale. After the doctor had left, Crowley stepped over to Cassandra and whispered in her ear "You will get up now, do some errands in the house and not think of your dying sister. I will signal you when you can come back to accompany her on her last way." With glazed eyes, Cassandra obliged and left the chamber. Crowley sighed and sat down beside the bed.

"I suppose I will need to miracle her better, for a bit", Aziraphale determined with a look at the unconscious author.

"Yes, that would be helpful", Crowley agreed. "Not much sense to talk to her like this."

The angel concentrated and snapped his fingers. The figure in the bed shifted and opened her eyes. When her glance found Crowley, they went wide in surprise. "You're here", she whispered.

"I'm here", he asserted and placed his hand on her arm, ever so gently.

She tried to get up, and Crowley assisted her, rearranging the pillows. "Better?", he asked.

"Yes. But I'm feeling quite hot", she replied.

Aziraphale cleared his throat. "Er, can I bring you something?"

She furrowed her eyebrows. "Yes, a wet towel would be nice. But may I ask, who are you?"

The angel stammered. "Uh, how do I say this... I'm..."

Crowley interrupted him, explaining "That's my very good friend, Mr. Azira Fell."

Aziraphale shot him a glance.

 _What?_ , Crowley's glance replied, _It's not a lie. You remember the song "You're my best friend", right?_

 _Ah well_ , Aziraphale concluded the semi-telepathic exchange. _I suppose that's one way to put it._

Jane relaxed into the pillows. "That's all right, then. You can find the towels in the first room to the right when you step onto the corridor", she said with a wave of her hand.

The angel turned and opened the door to the corridor, and screamed.

"What? What is it?", Jane asked, confused.

"No... nothing, my dear lady", Aziraphale lied. He was glad that she could not see the figure standing in the door frame now. 

With a shudder, he passed the dark silhouette and made his way to the room she had specified. He took a towel from the stack and put it into water. He turned and almost screamed again.

"Why are you following me? I thought you were here for _her_."

"I AM. YOU ARE DELAYING ME."

"Oh. It's just for a bit, you see. Saying goodbye."

"SO YOU WON'T TRY TO DEFY ME?"

"No... no, that's not why we are here."

"GOOD", he said. "THEN I'LL JUST WAIT."

Swallowing hard, Aziraphale went back to the chamber. There, he put the wet towel on Jane's forehead and sat down himself close to the door, keeping a respectful distance as not to disturb the both of them.

"What is your favourite, actually?", Jane asked Crowley.

"Uh, I would have to say _Emma_. It moves me the most. The ending was incredible."

She smiled. "Speaking of happy endings, did you confess your love to the person you mentioned in your letter? You wrote something along the lines of 'Dear Jane, I feel honoured that you would be willing to share your life with me, but at the same time I feel it would be a lie. I care for you, but there are older sentiments on my part I cannot forgo or pretend that they do not exist. So I fear, that if I agreed to wed you, that it would end in a very unhappy marriage, because I would always be longing for more. You said yourself that the worst and most irremediable of all evils is a connection for life with the wrong man.' Actually, it was Elinor Dashwood who said that, and she even only thought it, but I see your point, Mr. Crowley. So... did you come through?"

Aziraphale was very glad she could not see him blush over there, sitting in the dark.

With a painful pang, Crowley realised that Jane had memorised the letter word by word. "Uh, yeah. It took me some time, but I did, eventually." _Just took me another two hundred years. And an almost-apocalypse._

"So you're happy now?"

"I am, at that", Crowley replied.

"I'm glad", she said and put her hand on his. "And I'm glad I can see you once again. Thank you for coming."

 _Don't thank me_ , he wanted to say, _it was his idea, not mine. I'm a coward, Jane._ His throat felt tight.

He tried to start a sentence, failed, tried again and failed again. He looked at Aziraphale.

 _Just say it_ , the angel said without speaking.

"Well, I... I needed to say goodbye. I'm sorry for hurting you. I shouldn't have left it like that, abandoning you and broken off things with just a letter. I should have told you in person. I wanted to tell you that you meant a lot to me. You're wonderful, brilliant. It's just..."

"...that that is not enough. I understand completely, Mr. Crowley. How could I not?", she replied with a sad smile.

The tightness in his throat grew worse, but he managed to get out the following words.

"I will miss you very much."

"There is no need to. Maybe we will see each other again", she determined.

 _Unlikely_ , he thought, but did not said it aloud, of course. Aloud, he said "Maybe. Well, I think we need to go now." He got up from the chair, still holding her hand. He bowed slightly and gave her a kiss on the hand. "Goodbye, dear Jane."

*

When they left, they heard Cassandra hurry back to the chamber again. "Well, at least she won't die alone", Aziraphale determined.

"No, she won't. Something to be grateful for, at least", Crowley agreed quietly.

Standing outside, Aziraphale lifted his hand to snap fingers and bring them back, but suddenly remembered something. "Say", he asked, "the J in Anthony J. Crowley wouldn't happen to stand for Jane, wouldn't it?"

"Well..."

"Oh. I'm sorry. But you know, she is right in some way."

"How so?"

"You will see her over and over again, you know. As long as her books are read and adaptations are made from them..."

"Yes, that's one way to look at it", Crowley replied, a tear sliding down his cheek. But he was smiling at the same time.

Aziraphale snapped his fingers.

THE END


End file.
